


diamonds fade and flowers bloom

by tomlinstylescutie



Category: Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff, Lots of kissing, M/M, anakin likes to paint his nails, idk - Freeform, its 3am, obi wan likes it t00, what is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 00:02:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6929752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomlinstylescutie/pseuds/tomlinstylescutie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>anakin skywalker is a tough guy, alright. he's got a lightsaber and everything. he's also got painted nails but that's besides the point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	diamonds fade and flowers bloom

**Author's Note:**

> lsten,,, this is the first fic i ve ever written and its late and im not rly awake .also i realise that in order for this idea to work anakin needs to have two real hands so he does in this fic use ur imagination. whn ur bored u do weird thing s. also the title is from the song sideways by citizen cope it was playing so i chose that lyric as the title. this is so dumb what is this lol

    Obi-Wan knows exactly what kind of day it's going to be when a series of frustrated huffs of breath emit from the other room. He lifts his head from where he was reading a book to cast his gaze towards the noises. 

    " _Stars,"_  he hears in something he likes to call Anakin's 'Painting His Nails But Can't Get It Right' voice. He lets out a small breath of a laugh and sets down his book on the table before standing up and quietly walking towards the room. 

    As he suspected (and he's always right), there Anakin is, hunched over his right hand, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth and eyebrows furrowed in complete and irritated concentration. His left hand struggles to paint the small brush sufficiently over the expanse of his nail. Every time the pale, almost white, pink color of the polish bleeds out onto the skin around his nail, he lets out another huff. Obi-Wan can't help the fond smile that forms on his face at the sight.

    He just finds it incredibly cute.

    However, he can't just sit around and watch as the boy frustrates himself to death; so, he takes another few steps from the doorway to the inside of the room. Anakin acknowledges him with a start.

    "Master," Anakin greets him after a second, brush held still between two fingers. Obi-Wan lets his his stare shift from his hand to Anakin's face. He takes notice of the way his features are soft and rounded in the gentle light of the afternoon sun shining in through the window and resting perfectly upon his face. It's a pleasant contrast from the sharpness of his attributes when he carries the stress of a Jedi Knight on his shoulders. But now, perched upon his knees on a pillow, strands of unruly hair falling in his face, clad in loose comfort clothes that drape around his neck, showing the smooth tanned skin of his chest, Obi-Wan thinks Anakin is the epitome of soft. He walks to the other side of the table Anakin is sat at and sits down on the floor so they're level. 

    "That color suits you very well," Obi-Wan compliments Anakin as he makes a gentle reach for the hand spread out on the table. Anakin allows him to bring it closer towards his side, "Tsk, tsk, Anakin. It seems you've made a bit of a mess..," Obi-Wan teases him as he rubs his fingers over the soft skin of Anakin's knuckles and takes in the paint job he's attempted. Anakin shoots him an angry look. 

    "It's not as easy as it looks, Master," he snaps, a hint of challenge to his quiet voice. Obi-Wan looks up at him and displays a small smile before relocating his hand to Anakin's mess of hair, tucking a stray curl behind his ear. He doesn't miss the way Anakin instinctually leans into the light touch. He always does. 

    "Hmm.. maybe so. Let me at least  _try_ to help, yes?" he requests in the same hushed voice as he rubs the pad of his thumb against Anakin's cheekbone, his eyes fluttering closed at the soothing gesture. Obi-Wan wants nothing more than to hold him in his arms and never let go. 

    "Mmhm..," Anakin hums his yes, body going completely pliant, allowing Obi-Wan to take hold of his fingers and move them as he pleases. 

    Obi-Wan takes his time sweeping the brush over each of Anakin's nails, going over the parts that are slightly imperfect and making sure to remove any paint that finds its way onto Anakin's skin. The silence of the room allows him to concentrate fully on the task at hand and he's thankful for it, as it really isn't very easy. 

    "You're good at this, Master," Anakin speaks once Obi-Wan paints his fourth fingernail. Obi-Wan looks up from where he was staring intently at Anakin's hand and instead stares at his gentle face. Something he finds himself doing quite often. When being in close contact with a person of Anakin's striking beauty, one finds themselves indulging it in more and more often without even noticing it. Obi-Wan wonders by the cosmos how he got so lucky. They sit like that, gazing upon each other for a few moments before either of them decides to break the delightful silence.

    "Thank you," he finally answers in a whisper, continuing to stare for a moment longer before redirecting his focus back to Anakin's hand and resuming the diligent painting. The sudden movement of Anakin pulling his hand out of Obi-Wan's grasp to lean himself halfway over the table brings a gasp from his mouth. 

    "By the Force, Anakin, you've smudged the--," he begins to scold before the touch of Anakin's hands against his cheeks and lips against his own shushes him. 

    Obi-Wan remotely wonders if he'll ever adjust to the feeling of Anakin; the strong but gentle feel he manages to conjure when he does just about anything. Just the slightest of kisses has Obi-Wan reaching his hands into the unruly mess of hair, doing whatever he can to bring the younger man closer. They part momentarily to catch their breaths and it's a gentle moment of foreheads pressed against each other's and hands upon faces. 

    "You're good at that, too," Anakin murmurs against Obi-Wan's cheek before pressing a few lingering kisses to the skin there. Obi-Wan closes his eyes and cards his fingers through Anakin's hair, impulsively bringing him closer despite the already impossibly close proximity between the two.

    Obi-Wan sucks in a breath when Anakin travels below his face to the underside of his jaw, where tender lips work kind bruises into the sensitive skin there. A moan scratches its way up from the deepest part of Obi-Wan's throat at the action and he tips his head back slightly to allow more room. 

    "Anakin," he breaths sharply when Anakin all but climbs onto the table to come over to the opposite side Obi-Wan is sat at, removing himself from Obi-Wan's body for a mere few seconds to do so. Obi-Wan uses the time to get himself together by scooting back a few feet and pushing his hands against Anakin's chest when he tries to advance on him again. Anakin frowns at the unexpected response. They're both breathing heavy with want.

    "Not now, Anakin. You know we have a Council meeting in what--," he steals a glance at the clock, "ten minutes," Obi-Wan reprimands and pushes harder at Anakin when he tries again to come closer. The response is a high whine followed by a pout.

    "That's just cruel, Master. I want to kiss you.. Let me kiss you," Anakin pleas and once again advances quickly upon Obi-Wan's body. 

    "Anakin," he warns, eyeing him crossly and makes an attempt to stand up. But Anakin has other plans. 

    The next second, Obi-Wan is being attacked and pushed back onto the floor with a loud grunt. Anakin is suddenly on top of his hips, hands on each side of his head, smirking down at him with a victorious glint to his eyes. 

    "I'm sure it won't be a big deal to miss just  _one_ little meeting, Master," Anakin mutters into Obi-Wan's neck, the smirk still playing at his damned lips. Obi-Wan is less than happy with the idea, but he'll never let it be known. Instead, he reluctantly gives in to the pleasant feel of Anakin's body on his and brings his hands to the back of his neck to bring him down to his lips once again. 

    "You'll be the death of me, Anakin," Obi-Wan murmurs against Anakin's shoulder when he moves down to where he was previously working away at Obi-Wan's neck. 

    "Is that such a bad thing?" replies Anakin, cheeky and bold as he moves his hands under Obi-Wan's tunic, exploring the expanse of his stomach and chest. 

    Obi-Wan whispers out what he thinks is an answer but is probably just a bunch of breathy nothingness. He's sure that Anakin has already defeated his every fiber of being, honestly. 

 

    The next morning is a muddled mix of morning voices, tangled legs, and the discovery of pink polish dried all over Obi-Wan's skin. 

    "Perfect," Obi-Wan grumbles before tucking his face into the covers in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. 

    "Oh, don't fuss. The color suits you," Anakin teases and runs a smooth finger across Obi-Wan's jaw. 

    The death of him. 

 

   

     


End file.
